I've longed for you
by ErikaNapoleonica
Summary: One shot It had originally another summary, but is impossible for me to write one without revealing too much, let us just say Erik recieves a long expected visitor... please read and review!


A/N: I get this attacks from time to time you know... its like when I'm in the middle of something my mind just flies away and begins to wonder... ideas come to my head and I suddenly come up with these random fics... well, please read and tell me if I should get psychological help or if this is ok... One-shot chapter.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or ANY other character in this fic...  
  
WARNING: A friend told me this story was a bit... what was the word? Shocking. So please if you don't like suspense, do not read. Happy Alice?  
  
I'VE LONGED FOR YOU  
  
"Ceilings are such a magnificent thing..." he thought as he smiled, his eyes fixed on the greatest extent of the Opera House "they appear to be so fragile and seem to be about to collapse, and yet they are so strong and firm..." pride shown in his eyes "such a perfect construction... such a magnificent building..." he sighed and filled his lungs not only with air, but also with satisfaction.  
  
Outside the night had already fallen, the weather was humid and pleasant, spring was beginning to fade and summer inklings were more and more visible every day. The night was beautiful. A slow and tender rain began to fall, its tinny drops caressing everything they touched.  
  
He was alone. He stood right in that spot... the one he loved so much. The magnificent piece that had "Erik" written all over it: the ballroom. Such a simple room and yet the Opera's most splendid one, he was in love with that room.  
  
Slowly the great wooden doors that yielded entrance to dancers and aristrocrats were open. Erik remained there, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. He could hear the slow, firm steps of whoever had entered the room.  
  
"He could kill you..." a voice in his head hissed "maybe he is looking for you to kill you..."  
  
The steps ceased and silence reigned for a while. Erik did not turn neither the stranger spoke. He could hear the rain outside, soft, humid and peaceful.  
  
"Maybe his shocked to find the Phantom of the Opera alive... maybe he is some concierge..."  
  
A hand on his shoulder interrupted his thought, now he was shocked. The hand had grasped his shoulder firmly and suddenly. He could not turn; his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, a strange feeling coursed through his spine.  
  
'What a beautiful night...'

Erik felt fear overcoming him, he did not recognize the voice... he would have remembered a voice like that. It was soft and yet clearly audible, harsh and tender, strong and weak, a hiss and a scream... it was neither male nor female... it was that voice, its voice.  
  
He turned slowly and gazed first at the hand that lay on his shoulder, it was extremely pale and had long nails, a ring with a huge ruby on his heart finger. His gaze then coursed to the wrist, covered by a black sleeve... not like the ones on the elegant suits men used to attend Operas, more like the ones used in some medieval tales, his eyes traveled to the suit, if his eyes were not tricking him, and he doubted they did, it was wearing a long, black, heavy robe. His eyes dared further and he found himself facing a tall figure which face was totally covered by a hood. Erik's respiration became heavy, his heart beating quickened and his parchment-like skin went pale...  
  
'I've been waiting for you...' he whispered 'I've imagined the moment of our meeting in my dreams... I've dreamed of you in a thousand different forms... I've been expecting you.'  
  
The figure slowly removed his hand from Erik's shoulder. It glanced at the ceiling and then at Erik. Erik on the other hand could only stare at it.  
  
'I'm weary' it said 'you'd be surprised.'  
  
'When I dreamed of our meeting it was so much different' Erik whispered 'it was never in this room which I love deeply... and it was always a pleasant meeting. And as if wanting to prove me wrong, you've come here, to this room and you gave me a fearful feeling...'  
  
'This is a beautiful night indeed' it sighed 'I'm weary.'  
  
Erik looked at it astonished. Outside the rain had ceased and the scent of humid dirt filled the air. Erik gazed outside... there was no moon and no stars.  
  
'I have longed for you so, that I have written a hundred melodies which call you.'  
  
It moved across the room, its steps were firm and soft.  
  
'Shall we go to the lair?' it asked.

'You surprise me.' Erik said 'But I would like that... and I'd be grateful.'  
  
Erik needed not open the wooden doors, it had left them opened, he stepped outside and it followed.  
  
Silence reigned between them as the made their way through the magnificent passages and pieces. Erik's mind was filled with a thousand thoughts...  
  
'Mother...' he whispered under his breath 'mother...'  
  
He recalled his oldest nightmare: He was alone on a dead garden, he called her "Mother", and he opened his arms, "Mother". He offered his forehead, "Mother"... but she did not come, she did not embrace him and she did not kiss him.  
  
The scenario in his mind changed... he as now on a cage, his eyes fixed on the gypsies, he looked at his hands, they were bleeding... he had not performed as they wanted him too...  
  
Erik shook his head. He was now on another cage, a big one. A huge man entered and a crow cheered... the man was going to kill him. He jumped and ran, but there was no place to go... what could he do? He had that lasso he had been practicing catching things with... with a blink and skill he had not expected, his opponent was laying dead... the little sultana ordered another man to enter the cage, then another and then another, he was getting better... at nightfall he was released and made the sultanas entertainer... sometimes killing himself, others torturing.  
  
Erik sighed... there was a price for his head, he ought to runaway... Nadir helped him. Then a little peace... he was an acclaimed architect, lords would pay well to have a house designed by that one who just signed his plans "Erik" and then... the urge to prove himself, the grand project: "The Paris Opera House"  
  
'Christine... oh, my Christine...'  
  
How he had loved her. He would have spilled his blood; he would have done anything...  
  
'Oh Christine...' his right hand caressed his annular finger as his mind portrayed the golden ring in her finger.  
  
Reality seemed to strike and Erik opened his eyes. "When did we cross the lake?" They were stepping on the Louis-Philippe room.  
  
Erik closed his eyes, he founded a peace in there he had never felt. He opened his eyes slowly and spoke dreamily in his most charming and sincere voice...  
  
'I pity you.' He said.  
  
It looked at him and sighed.  
  
'I pity myself as well...'  
  
'I'm ready.'  
  
'I know you are.'  
  
'I'm in peace.'  
  
'Peace... it's a shame that when you finally find it...'  
  
'You find it forever... only you wouldn't know it.'  
  
Erik moved to his room, it followed.  
  
'Do you have a mirror?' Erik asked  
  
A soft laugh came from underneath its hood. Its white had pulled out a hand silver-mirror. Erik took the mirror from it and slowly and firmly removed his mask... he smiled. Erik placed his white mask in its place and handed the mirror back to it.  
  
'Thank you.' He said as he sat in his coffin 'You were right, it is a beautiful night.' He said laying and closing his eyes.  
  
'Good night Erik...'  
  
'I love you Christine...' he whispered as his breath grew heavy and his hear beats slowed 'I love you Christine... I love you Christine'  
  
It moved closer and placed his pale hand in Erik's chest. He looked peaceful; he had found peace.  
  
'I'm weary...' it whispered as he removed Erik's mask and kissed his forehead 'I'm envious...' he said placing the mask on its place 'I'm weary... what a beautiful night.'  
  
It began to walk away and left Erik behind, he was smiling; he had found peace at last.


End file.
